


the world, for this

by highboys (orphan_account)



Category: Kimi to Boku
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe, Gen, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/highboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuta's always been a good brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world, for this

**Author's Note:**

> AU wherein Masaki is the twins' younger sister.

1.

 

 

When the baby arrived, they crept inside the nursery, the two of them, Yuuki with a small rattle and Yuuta without.

"Ssh," said Yuuta, when the baby stirred.

"It's the toy," said Yuuki. "I only wanted to play with her."

He passed the rattle to Yuuta, and Yuuta tucked it under the the baby's blanket. Her first present, from her brothers. Beside him, Yuuki shifted; they stared at her face.

"She looks like mom," said Yuuki, hushed. Yuuta touched Masaki's soft cheek, the tiny whorl on her head. Her hair short, thin, sparse.

He loved her, then, with a fierce sort of longing; he loved her with all her abstractions, before she existed, the way only older siblings would profess to wait and love - from the very first moment, from the first time she opened her eyes.

"Masaki-chan," said Yuuta, as she wrapped her tiny hand around his pinky, "you're home."

 

 

2.

 

 

Saturday mornings were spent in the playground near the nursery school. The three of them walked the distance of a few blocks, Masaki's hands enclosed around her brothers' wrists and fingers. At the first sight of a swing, she would slip out of their hold, heartless.

When it rained, Yuuta would stay in the center, his siblings huddling against his side and trying to enter the safety of the plastic umbrella. Yuuki complained and Masaki cried, but they would wait it out in the large penguin slide, like kittens waiting for their mother.

In the afternoon, Masaki dozed under the tree, her head nestled on Yuuta's lap as Yuuki dumped more sand on his castle. Yuuta stroked her hair, clearing her forehead, sticky with sweat, of her bangs. Her curls felt scratchy, in his palm.

Mama fetched them, a little before three. Yuuta bent lower; he whispered in her ear. "Wake up," he said, "my princess."

She grumbled, under her breath. She groused and whimpered no even as she stretched, rebellious to the end.

"Masaki-chan," said Yuuta, holding out his hand. "Let's go home."

She took his hand; they went home, together, Yuuki asleep as Mama carried him, and Yuuta holding her hand all the way back.

She never got lost.

 

 

3.

 

 

On Yuuta's first day of elementary school, Masaki cried.

"Wanna play," said Masaki, fitful even as Mama strapped her to a high chair. "Wanna go seesaw."

"Brat," said Yuuki.

Masaki made a distressed noise and stuck her tongue out when Mama wasn't looking. "Ta-chan," she sobbed.

"Masaki-chan," said Yuuta, "we can play when Yuuki and I come home."

"Want Ta-chan," said Masaki, still miserable. "Not Ki-chan."

"Later," Yuuta promised, wiping away the messy tear tracks on her cheeks.

Yuuki rolled his eyes.

 

 

4.

 

 

Junior high was a mess of Masaki engaged in a personal vendetta against her brothers' stalkers, and a stealthy operation of stalking of her own.

"500 yen, per copy," said Yuuki, over the kotatsu.

"300," she haggled, kicking him.

"400 or no deal," said Yuuki, spreading the photos across the surface.

"I used up my allowance," said Masaki, sulking.

Yuuki collected the items; he set them back in his pocket. "It's not easy to take pictures of your crush without losing my dignity. 400 or I tell Shun you're creepy."

Yuuta smacked Yuuki, as he walked past. "No exploiting the baby." He sat beside Yuuki, and Masaki glowered at the two of them.

"Not a baby," said Masaki. "And Ki-chan was being a jerk on purpose."

Yuuta stared at Yuuki, who was already distracted by his manga. Masaki kicked him under the table, once more.

"Ow," Yuuki intoned. "Did you see that?"

"Stop teasing Masaki-chan," said Yuuta.

"I thought I was your favorite," Yuuki said, to Yuuta.

"You're my favorite brother," said Yuuta, "but Masaki's my favorite sister."

"We're your only siblings," said Yuuki.

Yuuta looked at both of them, at Masaki's cheeks flushed with anger and mortification, at Yuuki's bland yet calculating expression. He sighed.

"Thank god for that," said Yuuta, and he turned the TV on to drown out the sound of Masaki's screeching.

 

 

5.

 

 

He found her staring at the top of the board, her purse clasped to her stomach. The other hand was outstretched, reaching for something beyond her. He thought of saying, _you're still using up your allowance on pictures, really?_ but he wasn't Yuuki, so he kept his peace.

When he offered a lift up, she bit her lip and took a moment before nodding. She must have wanted this badly, to give in so quickly.

The last time he carried her on his shoulders, she was seven and reaching for the stars in the night sky, her chubby hand grasping at lights, open and close, coming up empty. Now, her starched skirt brushed against his throat, her indoor shoes knocking against his jacket. She hid her face behind his head; she inhaled, deeply, and sighed.

"You're taller, now," she said, rueful. "You and Ki-chan. They said I didn't even grown an inch."

"Don't listen to them," said Yuuta, feeling that tight ache in his chest, the flicker and flare of protectiveness hounding his heels. "You're just a little late, that's all."

"You really think so?"

"I know it."

"I'll miss you, when you graduate," she confessed, all ambitions of retrieving Shun's photograph now forgotten.

"More than Yuuki?"

She laughed, a quiet, soft sound that settled his heart. "More than."

"I'll miss you too," he said. "More than anyone else."

She carried home two pictures, that day -- Shun, smiling, lost in thought, and Yuuta, his eyes locked onto the camera, inscrutable but still gentle. Like she was the only one he looked at, the only person that mattered.

He looked a little like home.

 


End file.
